


Hindsight of the Blind

by cole_lit



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: BAMF Bilbo Baggins, BAMF Dís, BAMF Thorin, Big Brother Thorin, Crack, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Thorin is a Softie, Time Travel Company, Time Travel Fix-It, sorta?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-25 04:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4946104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cole_lit/pseuds/cole_lit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When (badly hidden) secrets come to light in Trollshaw, the Company decides to set out and rid the threats that plague the Middle Earth, one at a time.</p><p>a.k.a. the time travel fic where the whole company goes back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trollshaw

In hindsight, Bilbo Baggins of Bag End should have noticed something amiss about his Dwarves.

He should have noticed they were much more polite and pleasant than the last time they arrived. Each one of them, even Thorin Oakenshield, introduced themselves with a grin and a bow fit for a king or a hero (not that Bilbo knew of this custom). Most of them had tears in their eyes (even _Dwalin and Nori_ ) and Bofur had to be held back by both Bifur and Bombur lest he bowl over their Hobbit host.

Or rather, Bilbo noted their demeanor and attributed it to his preparedness of their arrival since Dwarves were always more agreeable when fed. (Except when in the company of Elves.) With a lavish feast in front of them and no Elves in sight, they were a pleased and pleasant Company.

So at Trollshaw, he was greatly surprised at their objections when he informed the Company of his urgent need to pass water.

Truthfully though, he had no urgent need. It was simply an excuse to sneak away and arm himself and Thorin with their respective Elven swords (or letter-opener, in Bilbo's case) before they encountered the Trolls. He refused to put himself or his Dwarves in a very humiliating situation to save themselves from certain death since Dwarves can get so touchy when their honor was at stake. So Bilbo will do his best to spare them the disgrace of having worms in their tubes.

"Yes, Dori, I will be fine. No, Bofur, I do not need help nor company. Yes, Dwalin, I am sure! And you, Nori, don't even think of following me!" he said exasperatedly, pointing at his fellow thief, who crossed his arms, seemingly offended. (Either at the idea of not being able to follow or being caught this early on, Bilbo could only guess).

He was fairly sure they were not this ( _over_ )protective of him this early in their journey; but then Thorin ordered them to be more careful, as if heeding Gandalf's warning but was too stubborn to change his mind about leaving the clearing.

"Now is not the time for your delicate halfling sensibilities-" Thorin growled at him, leaving all his social graces back in Shire and returning to the rude callous Dwarf Bilbo knew. (And despite his better judgement, _loved_ even before Thorin showed his gentler side. He really was a fool of a Took.)

"Just because you have no sensibilities, or _sense_ at that,” Bilbo interrupted him, shouting back at the leader of the Company, who was momentarily taken aback. “Does not mean the rest of us must suffer the same ailment. It's just passing water! Do you expect me to be attacked?" Bilbo continued.

A lifetime ago, he would have never thought of answering back at Thorin, especially at this early in the journey. (In fact, he didn't.) But then, he wasn't the old Bilbo anymore.

Or rather, he _was_ the old Bilbo, the _Mad Baggins_. And right now, he was literally mad at the Dwarf whose furry arse he was desperately trying to save from death and humiliation. Though he knew he would get no gratitude from the gruff old dwarf, surely Bilbo deserved a little respect for even joining him on his suicidal mission to reclaim his home?

"Yes! That's why I ordered all of you to stay in camp! Or are your giant hobbit ears as useless as an Elf's?"

Bilbo just stared a Thorin in silence, trembling while trying to verbalize the fullness of his ire at the stupid idiot who called himself the leader of the Company.

" _First_ ," he said, overly enunciated the word as he tried to calm his temper. "You _never_ insult a Hobbit's ears. And I know others would consider it a compliment for their hearing to be compared to an Elf's, who have the best hearing on this side of Arda; I know you Dwarves consider any and all things Elven as the one of the worst insults you can think of.”

“ _Second_ ," moving forward and pointing a quivering finger at Thorin's giant nose. "You are _not_ my king! ( _But you were. You could have been._ His mind traitorously whispered back.) You do not, _you cannot_ , order me outside of my role as your burglar as agreed upon in our contract. And as I remember, my personal needs such as bathing and passing water do not have any bearing on my being a burglar.

“And _third_ , if you are worried about being attacked, like Gandalf warned you before storming off because you insisted that we camp here, _then why are we camping here in the first place?!_ "

Neither King nor Hobbit, too engrossed with out-glaring the other, noticed the Ri brothers' eyes widened in surprise before Nori grinned like a contented cat and whispered to his brothers, " _They know!_ "

Nor did they notice the Bifur and Bombur were grinning maniacally while the latter patted his brother, who was wheezing so hard trying _not_ to laugh.

Nor did they notice Balin's satisfied smile as he watched Thorin make a fool of himself nor Dwalin's grumbling as he passed a few coins to his brother.

They did notice though, as did everyone in the Company, when Óin suddenly spoke up, "Are they having a lover's spat this early in the journey already?"

Glóin noted the looks his brother garnered, especially Thorin's contemplative gaze and Bilbo's shocked stare. But the sons of Gróin have always been blunt and so he answered back in a wondrous tone, "I ask myself the same question, brother."

"Are they considered lovers if Uncle hasn't given his Courting gift yet?" asked Kíli, uncaring that the whole Company was looking at him instead. Fíli nudged him several times, in the hopes of silencing his younger brother; but his efforts were all in vain, which he should have expected since Kíli never learned to still his ever-wagging tongue.

"Courting gift?" Bilbo squeaked, his earlier ire forgetten in the face of more important matters, like _Courting gifts_.

" _Kíli_ ," Thorin growled menacingly though his cheeks and the tips of his ears turned pink.

Kíli, used to his Uncle's tendency to react with anger at every little thing, answered the Hobbit cheerfully. "The mithril shirt!"

"And how do you know about that, laddie?" Baliln asked, a little breathless with shock and glee.

"It has happened before. Or it will happen. Or it will have happened?" Kíli tried to answer, before giving up and looking to his brother for help. "How do you say these things, Fíli?"

"You don't," the golden-haired Dwarf sighed.

"Besides, it may not happen this time around," Dwalin pointed out and the rest of the Dwarves cried in outrage at the statement.

"You think His Majesty will not give Bilbo a gift worthy of his status as the Royal Burglar and _Consort-to-be_?!" Dori asked, aghast. He felt that Thorin would at least treat Bilbo the respect he greatly deserved.

"What? _No_!" Dwalin answered back. "That great emotionally-constipated lump of a Dwarf is too smitten with the Hobbit _not_ to give him such a kingly gift. I meant our Hobbit might not accept it this time around, seeing as he is now only aware that it was a Courting gift from Thorin.”

"True, true," Bofur said, grinning madly. "His Royal Gruffness might actually have his work cut out for him to woo our Hobbit this time around."

"Wait, _wait_!" Bilbo said, interrupting Ori, who shut his mouth with a frown. "Courting gift. You gave me a Courting gift," looking at Thorin with an increasingly pale complexion.

"You were courting me?" he breathed out, his eyes widening as his hands flailed. "You were courting me _and you had the gall to die on me_?!"

Suddenly, the light-hearted mood that surrounded the Company disappeared. In place, a somber air filled the clearing which had most of them paling or frowning.

"Halfing," Thorin said, before Bilbo's mood shifted back to anger.

" _I am half of nothing_ , Thorin Oakenshield, and you should best remember that!"

"You're half of Thorin, Bilbo," Fíli interrupted this time, catching everyone's attention. He was pale and grim, but there was a gleam in his Durin blue eyes. "When Mahal created us Dwarves, he crafted us so that we remain incomplete until we find our Ones. You're Uncle Thorin's One, Master Baggins."

"His better half, rest assured," Kíli added, a matching gleam in his own pair of Durin blue eyes.

"I..." Bilbo opening his mouth before snapping it shut, as if suddenly coming to a great realization. "Do _all of you_ remember the first time we did this?"

"If you mean do we remember when the boys lost the ponies and you let yourself be fooled into saving them by yourself?" Balin said with a grin, Dwalin chuckling beside him. "Then yes, we, the sons of Fundin, remember," Balin said as both brothers put a fist to their chest and gave a low bow.

"Then you claimed that the best way to cook a Dwarf is to skin them first?" Glóin spoke up. "Then yes, we, the sons of Gróin, also remember," he continued, as they imitated Balin and Dwalin, and put a fist to their chest before giving a low bow.

"We Ur lads remember you stalled for time by claiming that all of us had worms in our tubes," Bombur smiled as all three of them imitated the other Dwarves and bowed as well. Bofur even took off his hat.

"We Ri brothers remember that Kili claimed to have the largest and Fili claimed to have the most," Ori spoke up (ignoring Princes' indignant protests), before he and his brothers bowed as well.

"I remember it was your sharp wit and sharper tongue that saved us from imminent death that day," Thorin said, low and solemn, his blue eyes practically glowing as he stared at Bilbo. "Alongside your courageous spirit and your loyal heart, you continued to save us time and again on this mad quest to regain a home that was never yours. Loyalty, honor and a willing heart. I can ask no more from you."

Then Thorin looked up from Bilbo's perpetually shocked expression to glance at his Company, who stood, entranced with Thorin's words.

Dazed morphed to determined as Thorin looked into the eyes of each of his Company, from the youngest to the oldest, and continued, "Nor from any of you. It is my honor to have traveled with you, the Great Lords of Erebor. The greatest Dwarven Heroes of the Third Age. And it beyond mere honor that thrums through my veins to have been blessed by our Maker and the Creator to be able to travel with each and every one of you once more. I apologize for my lack of craft to show you the fullest depth of my gratitude, so I hope you may settle with: Thank you."

With that, Thorin bowed low to each member of the Company, who stared at Thorin in shock. Afterwards, he faced Bilbo once more, whose eyes were rapidly filling with tears.

"Bilbo?" he asked, worried at the sight of Bilbo's tears.

Bilbo couldn't help but pull on Thorin's braids (happily ignoring the wolf-whistles and catcalls), forcing the tall Dwarf to bend down and allowing Bilbo to press his forehead against his. "I have waited so long to do this," he whispered, his hazel eyes staring directly into Thorin's blue eyes. Thorin smiled, cupping both hands to Bilbo's face and wiping away the tears than ran down his cheeks with his thumbs.

Before they close the distance between them, two menaces from the line of Durin latched onto the pair.

"Please don't scar the young impressionable minds in the Company, Uncle Bilbo," Kíli said, hugging the Hobbit.

("Do they mean me? Don’t they know that I am older than them? At least mentally?" Ori commented as he bumped his forehead against Óin’s.

"Lad, you've always been more mature than those pair of overgrown tweens even before this whole time-travel debacle," Óin answered back.)

"Save it for the bedroom, Uncle Thorin," Fíli said, latching onto his Dwarven uncle.

"You mean save you from losing the bet!" Glóin answered back, his arm around Bifur, who signed to Glóin. "And Bifur says that there's no chance either of you would win anyway since we all know they would snog each other senseless once we let them out of our sights."

"Maybe not even then," Bofur added. "You know how determined they can get, especially our Hobbit."

"Facing a dragon all by his lonesome self, that's not determined. That's suicidal!" Nori pointed out.

"No more suicidal than any of us on this mad quest!" Ori answered back.

A beat.

Then all of them roared in laughter, delighted to be in the presence of each other.

Of course the noise did not go unnoticed by the Trolls, who stepped away from their clearing.

"Look, Bert! Dwarves!" Tom cried out happily.

"Finally, no more mutton for tonight!" Bill said as he reached out to grab one of them.

Unfortunately, he reached out to Dori, who caught two fingers from the offending hand and crossed his arms, breaking the fingers with ease.

"You dratted Dwarf," Bill cried out as he tried to pull away, but Dori's hold was too strong for him, allowing Ori, who stole Keeper from Dwalin, to chop off the arm from the troll.

That prompted the rest of the Company to attack the Trolls. Bilbo would have stayed and watched how magnificent his Dwarves moved together, as if they were of one mind and spirit, but needs must and he did not forget what he initially set out to do, despite being thoroughly side-tracked.

With the Trolls busy, he easily went to their cave and found Sting and Orcrist, leaving Glamdring for the moment, before returning to the battle.

Bill was dead, cut into several pieces, while Bert and Tom were attempting to fend off the rest of the Dwarves, to no avail.

"Thorin!" Bilbo cried out, catching the Dwarf's attention. Tom also heard the Hobbit's cry and rushed towards him, expecting to, at least, feast on the smallest and weakest among them before succumbing to death from his numerous wounds. Unfortunately, despite being the smallest and weakest in the Company, he was also the swiftest, side-stepping the fumbling Troll and stabbing him in the knee before passing Orcrist to Thorin, who also rushed to Bilbo's side and accepted the sword with a striking yet blood-thirsty grin. With Orcrist in his hands and Tom collapsed on the ground, he cut off the Troll’s head.

With two Trolls down, the Company converged on the third, who did not last for long against the might of the whole Company.

"Wait," and it was no surprise that Nori would be the first to notice. "Did you really need to pass water or were you trying to sneak away to get your swords back?"

"And more importantly, does Orcrist count as a return gift for the mithril shirt since Uncle Bilbo gave it to Uncle Thorin this time around? Or is it the first of their Courting gifts?” Kíli asked, ever invested in his Uncles' relationship.

"I wouldn't know since you confounded Dwarves refuse to share your confounding secret traditions to outsiders," Bilbo muttered rather uncharitably, since he was covered in Troll blood, which may or may not be worse than Troll mucus.

("Bah! You're no outsider, Bilbo! You're practically a Dwarf with Hobbit feet!" Glóin said, wiping the blood off his battle axes with his clothes, since they seemed to be unsalvagable.

"And appetite. Don't forget his Hobbit appetite!" Bombur added, much to the amusement of the Company.)

"Besides, I didn't know you all knew so I had to sneak away to get them before we faced the Trolls," Bilbo answered Nori, who looked confused.

"Why didn't you just use your magic ring that turned you invisible?" was Nori's follow-up question.

"How did you know that?" Bilbo asked because he knew Nori passed away before the Fellowship was formed.

"It's my job to notice things. Shiny things especially," he answered with a shrug, unashamed of his career as always, much to Dwalin's annoyance.

"Then you should have noticed that it was an evil malevolent thing, created to destroy all those we love," Bilbo said, his tone darkening.

"Aye!" Glóin added, raising his still bloodied axes. "It should be destroyed for good, lest it destroys the lives of children everywhere!"

"What are the pair of you talking about?" Thorin asked, not understanding the dark countenance that seemed to have surrounded Bilbo, Glóin, and surprisingly, Dwalin.

"The ring. The one that turns Bilbo invisible. It is the One Ring," Dwalin answered his King.

A beat.

"Surely, you jest," Balin breathed out, yet his expression seemed more resigned than doubting.

"Do you think we would jest about Sauron's Ring?" Glóin asked, enraged. "Do you think I would joke about the hardships of my beloved son?"

"How did the Ring affect your son, Glóin?" Bombur asked softly, understanding the pain and fear stemmed from a parent’s love of his children.

"The Ring made my son fall for an Elf!" he cried out, collapsing onto Óin's surprised arms. But the healer held onto his younger brother, whose grip on his axes loosened until they fell on the ground beside them.

"What he means to say is that Gimli was part of the Fellowship set out to destroy the Ring alongside my own son, Frodo, and Legolas, son of Thranduil. Along the way, it seemed that both Gimli and Legolas formed a rapport, which was not the fault of the Ring, altogether," Bilbo explained to the Company, hoping that it would ease their anger.

It did not. In fact, it only worsened.

"That dishonorable weed-eating tree-shagger! How dare he make a son of Durin fall for him!" surprisingly, it was Dori who cried out in outrage, and the rest of the Dwarves agreed with him.

(All except for Kíli, who stood back, and Fíli, who stood beside his brother. Of course, Thorin noticed this and went to them, letting the Company air out their grievances about the pair.

"Tauriel is fine and honorable, for an Elf," Thorin said, surprising both of his sister-sons since he spoke with no grimace nor sarcasm, not that he knew how to use the latter.

"Uncle?"

"Dwarves know better than to go against how Mahal has crafted them. If you were created with the she-Elf as your One, well..." he trailed off, unable to speak the words, yet his sister-sons understood his meaning. Kíli was unashamed to hug his Uncle fiercely, with Fíli following the suit.

"Then why is it an issue that Gimli falls for Legolas?" Fíli had to ask for the sake of his younger cousin.

"Because Legolas has dishonored Glóin's beautiful wife and Gimli himself with his malicious words while we were in prison. And now he seeks to court Gimli without asking for atonement for his transgressions. And worse, it seems that he did not inform Gimli of his offenses," Thorin explained into his boys' hair, uncaring that it was covered in Troll blood and guts and holding on to them for dear life.)

"We should destroy that bane of our existence! Prevent it from causing misery to us and to our children!" Glóin said, lifting his head from his brother's shoulder.

(“ _Are you talking about the One Ring or Legolas?_ ” Bilbo muttered to himself.)

The Company cheered at his words.

"And save the Middle Earth while we're at it?" Bilbo felt the need to point out.

"And that too!" cheered the Company once more.

But honestly, it was a good strategy: destroy Sauron's Ring and eliminate the Dark Lord and his forces from the face of Middle Earth, especially while he was unaware and has not amassed his army yet. Despite the treacherous journey to Mount Doom, with the fourteen of them together once more, nothing seemed impossible.

"I have no problems with that. But what shall we tell Dís?" Thorin asked.

And at once, the cheer and enthusiasm was replaced by cold dread at those words, which Bilbo did not understand at all.

"Surely Lady Dís would understand?" Bilbo asked and all the Dwarves looked at him with wide eyes.

"She might. But she will defintely be...displeased," Balin answered, his pause was telling.

"More like furious," Kíli said, shivering at the memory of his mother's fury. So did the rest of the Company, except for Thorin who wore a smug grin at their evident fear.

"We should have brought her with us. Angered her a little, _just a little mind you_ , I’m not _that_ suicidal despite partaking on this mad quest, and pit her against Smaug. Surely the dragon will not survive her wrath," Dwalin said and the Dwarves muttered their agreement.

"If she is really that strong, then why is she not part of our Company?" Bilbo asked.

"She lost in the duel for the right to join," Fíli explained to Bilbo, who did not understand the explanation at all. Much less the reactions that followed it.

"She lost!?"

"The unbeatable Lady Dís?"

"To whom?"

" _She lost!?_ "

"What kind of monster could defeat the Unbeaten Swordmistress?"

The Company asked relentlessly, unwilling to believe such a thing could happen.

"She lost to me," Thorin answered, and all the Company looked at him with disbelief and awe. "I would not, _I cannot_ , let her put herself on this suicidal quest. I _refuse_ to be reason for her death, as well." Those words may have been addressed to the whole Company, but his mournful gaze was directed at his sister-sons.

"You beat her?" Balin asked, his respect for Thorin growing once more.

"Of course,” Thorin answered blithely, pulling himself out of his somber mood and preening with pride once more. “I taught her everything she knew. And I still have a few more tricks I haven't even showed her yet.”

"You taught her how to be a menace," Dwalin muttered.

Thorin snorted. "Hardly. She was already a menace the moment she was born. But as her eldest brother, I couldn't help but indulge her whims. And if one of her whims is to learn how to wield a sword, it was my pleasure and my duty to show her the way of the sword. And if she refuses to lose, as those in Durin’s line wont to, and thus inspires fear into the hearts of stone-hearted Dwarves; then so be it."

"How dare you call your sister a menace, Thorin Oakenshield!" Bilbo said, glaring at the Dwarf. "Albeit cold and distant, but not at all a menace, unlike a certain child of Thrain in this clearing. In fact, she is quite pleasant and sensible underneath her cold exterior.”

Now all the Dwarves were staring at Bilbo as if he was the second coming of Mahal himself.

"What?" Bilbo asked, feeling a little self-conscious at their unblinking attention.

"I see it now, you and Thorin were meant to be."

"Only you would find Dis's company not terrifying at all."

"I hope not, Bifur."

"So," Balin said, calling the attention of the Company. "Shall we collect the One Ring and destroy it while Sauron is still weak, saving Middle Earth as we know it? Or shall we continue to Erebor after collecting the Ring?"

"Save Middle Earth or save our skins from the wrath of Lady Dís?" Dwalin put it into simpler terms.

There was no contest.

"Can we bypass Rivendell since we know what's in the maps? I don't want to be forced to eat their green food again," Ori was the first to speak up.

"And Goblin-town?"

"I'd really like to avoid those Stone Giants, if it's all the same to you."

"And Mirkwood! Can we not go through that dratted forest?"

"Or get caught by spiders."

"Or _Elves_."

"Especially the Elves. I wouldn't want to smell like dungeon for weeks again."

"Or to escape in barrels again. Not that I don't appreciate your efforts, Bilbo, it's just that, can we avoid it all together?"

"I'd like to avoid the dragon, if we can, but since we know his weak spot, we can probably kill it now."

"What I would like to avoid altogether," Bilbo said, his soft quiet voice carrying a weight that silenced the Dwarves. "Is the death of any of you on this quest of ours.”

“If any of you die," his eyes looking far older than his physical age, looking into the very souls of his Dwarves before resting on Thorin's frozen stance. "I will go to your Maker and demand that he give you to me so that I may have the pleasure of killing you myself for putting me through _another lifetime of grief_. Am I understood?"

A beat.

"You're right, Bifur. Our Hobbit is as terrifying as Lady Dís herself. No wonder they get along so well."


	2. Rivendell Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where they realize that there is something hotter than dragonfire. (And Elrond was lucky to have avoided it.)  
> It's called a Hobbit's ire.

Soon after deciding their next course of action, they went to a nearby river to wash away the remnants of their battle.

(“Dwalin, watch over the boys so they don’t drown this time,” Thorin called out, ignoring the indignant protests of his sister-sons.

“No can do, Your Highness. Gotta watch over _you_ ,” Dwalin answered back, unfazed by Thorin’s menacing glare.

“Are you implying something, Dwalin?” Thorin growled.

“I’m not implying anything. I’m _saying_ that I’m going to do my job.”)

Afterwards, too wound up from battle, they went to the Troll cave to decide what to do with the treasure within.

“You think we should hide it like last time?” Glóin asked, turning towards Nori and Bofur. Both Dwarves looked contemplative for a moment before nodding.

“Best have insurance,” Nori commented.

“What’s an insurance?” Bilbo asked, picking up Glamdring.

“Usually, it’s protection against some unfortunate event. But in this case, it acts much like savings. Something you set aside for the time being and return to when things go wrong,” Glóin explained in simplest terms.

“What do you think will go wrong this time?” Bombur asked.

“Other than everything?” Nori answered back, ever cynical. “Just because we went back in time doesn’t mean everything will now be golden.”

“But since we went back in time, then we would be ready with what happens next,” Ori pointed out reasonably.

“Really, Ori? Do you think we can ever be ready for the Orcs? Or for war?” Nori pointed out. “Because you of all Dwarves should know that plans do not survive upon first encounter with the enemy.”

“And since when have you been a schoar, Nori?” Dori asked, more curious than suspicious.

Nori was rightfully offended. “Scholar? _Me_? _Dori_! I thought you know better! You know the only scholar among us is Ori, and that didn’t last for long!”

“Just because I learned how to defend myself does not mean I stopped being a scholar, Nori!” Ori huffed at Nori’s raised brow.

“There is knowing how to defend yourself. And then, there is _taking on Moria_ ,” Bofur chimed from the side.

“ _Thank you_ Bofur, for your input,” Ori said sarcastically, to which Bofur gave a shallow bow and grinned.

“Moria?” Dori said faintly, his eyes widening at his youngest brother. Ori shrugged in reply.

“Balin called. Of course I answered,” he replied, feeling as if he was stating the obvious. There was only one answer when one of the Company called, after all.

Dori sighed, hardly finding fault in that logic. Then, he turned to his middle brother, who may have effectively side-tracked the conversation, but Dori knew better. “Your diversion tactics won’t work on me, Nori.”

“Never had, never will,” Nori muttered, disappointed.

“Nori would have come too, if he heard Balin’s call,” Ori added, the traitor. He, in turn, was grinning at the middle Ri brother, who scowled.

“Where were you then, lad?” Balin asked, curious of the whereabouts of their most elusive member. All of the Company who were still alive (and had no responsibilities to their families like Glóin and Bombur) answered his call, except for his brother who grew to be a restless soul and wandered across the Middle Earth. Though he knew that if Dwalin was in Erebor when he called for arms, his younger brother would have been the first to answer.

“Taking care of business, most likely,” Bofur said, grinning at the menacing look their resident thief was giving him.

“Business?” Dori repeated, frowning at the implications.

“Oh, you mean his tea shop?” Bombur added.

“Tea shop?” Dori asked, confused because none of his brothers appreciated anything related to plants. In fact, both of them abhorred anything green and living (despite his combined efforts with Bilbo), though Nori was more subtle about it than Ori.

“Your tea shop,” Nori muttered, looking away from his elder brother.

“And what did you do to my tea shop, Nori?” Dori asked, hints of fury in his voice.

The small tea shop he set up in Erebor was his dream ever since he was a wee Dwarfling. (A fanciful dream, for when his stomach rebelled for food or his vision blurred in the dimming candlelight. A dream that did not have a place for a Dwarfling who was struggling to ensure food and shelter for his younger brothers.) So right after he claimed his share of the gold, his tea shop was born.

“He expanded it,” Glóin said, pulling Dori out of his rage to openly gape at the redhead. “Smart lad, spread it across the Middle Earth. All the way to Gondor, if I’m not mistaken.”

“ _Spreading_ it,” Nori corrected Glóin, still not looking at his eldest brother, who was now staring at him as if he was something shiny and fascinating. “Didn’t get past Rohan though,” he added, disappointed with himself.

“And why did you do that?” Dori asked, wonder in his voice.

“Is it to ensure the company of a certain restless Dwarf who rarely spent time in Erebor?” Óin commented, grinning alongside Bifur. Both of them ignored Nori’s glare and the knives that flew past their braids.

“Watch it!” Óin growled, while Bifur angrily signed to Nori what he would have done if the knife actually hit them.

“Then watch what you’re saying!” Nori snarked pack, pulling out another set of knives. They were unpoisoned, of course, lest he hurt them irreparably if he _accidentally_ hits them. But no one could take Nori seriously (well, too seriously since he was deadly accurate with his throwing knives) since there was a faint pink coloring across his cheeks.

“Because it’s yours, Dori,” Ori answered. The youngest Ri brother wielded words with no less accuracy and precision than Nori with his knives. “And you loved it so much that it would be the greatest injustice to let it waste away.”

“Besides,” Nori added, siding up to Ori and slinging an arm around his shoulders as a warning to silence him. (Ori rolled his eyes at Nori’s tendency to hide the truth, especially about his feelings.) “I wanted to see how far a fourteenth of the share can go. Apparently, really, _really_ far since I’ve set up so many shops in Erebor and Rohan and everywhere in between and I still had enough to set up at least thrice the number already existing.”

“So why would we need to set aside this gold if we basically have an unlimited amount waiting for us in Erebor?” Bilbo asked, interrupting the conversation.

(“Darn it, Uncle Bilbo. We were just getting to the good part!” Kíli whined.

“I think the good part was already over, Kee,” Fíli said, patting his brother’s back consolingly.)

“Because it is best to set up an insurance, in case things go wrong,” Glóin repeated and Bilbo shook his head.

“I mean, despite what could go wrong in this quest - and just because I lived at least half a century afterwards does not mean I forgot what happened on this mad quest of ours - the only way that we won’t be able to claim the treasure in Erebor is if we are dead, am I right?” Murmurs of agreements went around since Bilbo had a point.

“And that will not happen this time around, _am I right_?” he asked again, and this time the Dwarves were more fervent in agreeing with their Hobbit.

(How could they not when they could see and hear an echo of Lady Dís in Bilbo, who barely met her in his last life? Many shuddered at the idea of the two of them actually combining forces.

Middle Earth wouldn’t stand a chance.)

Then Bilbo was quiet for a moment, before a gleam entered into his eyes. “I think I know how we could use the treasure to set up a better ah, _insurance_. But only if you trust me,” he said, looking at the Dwarves, who were looking back at Bilbo.

“You do trust me, right?” he asked, hesitant and timid.

The Dwarven members of the Company glanced at each other, as if looking for the reason for Bilbo’s hesitance. When they could find none, more than one Dwarf scoffed at the question.

“I’ve always painted you as the brains behind Thorin’s brawn, but now you’ve got me rethinking that,” Nori commented blandly, avoiding the nudges from both his brothers.

“It is a rather stupid question,” Bofur chimed in. “ _Very_ stupid,” he added, after Bifur signed it to him.

“Bilbo. You’re one of the Company. More so, you are Thorin’s One. We trust you as we trust our kin and King,” Balin answered, as eloquent as ever.

Bilbo, touched by their words, sniffed a few times, before straightening. “Thank you. Then I need to speak with Thorin.”

And with that, he went to the cave entrance, where Thorin and Dwalin stood watch.

As soon as he got there, Dwalin headed inside to the rest of the Company, though he gave a wary glance at the Royal Couple he left behind.

“Already being ordered around by our Hobbit King?” Balin teased him.

But Dwalin was too old to fall for his tricks so he just smiled and answered, “Nah, Bilbo is too polite to order me around. Besides, I wouldn’t want to be in the middle of one of their _talks._ ”

They all knew their talks often lead to something pleasureable or loud or maybe both.

This time though, it was just loud. Very much so.

“YOU WANT TO _WHAT_!?”

**. . .**

With the ponies carrying as much treasure as they can, the Company left the cave before dawn, lest the warg scouts find them this time around.

(“What about Gandalf?” Fili asked, ever responsible.

“He is a Wizard. He will come when he comes,” was Bilbo’s nonchalant answer.)

Bilbo led them to the borders patrolled by Rivendell scouts, hoping they would meet one of them. And soon enough, the met a scouting party, led by Lord Elrond himself.

“Lord Elrond,” Thorin said, nodding his head in greeting. The rest of the company followed his example after a signficant cough and look from Bilbo.

“King Thorin Oakenshield,” Elrond nodded in return, though his Elves did not follow the suite. “May I ask what you are doing in these lands with that much treasure? It seems impractical to carry all that from the Blue Mountains,” he asked, gesturing to the ponies.

“The treasure came from the nearby Troll cave. This treasure, we assumed based on the blades we found among them, was stolen from you and your kin,” Thorin explained, before taking a deep breath, as if steeling himself with what he will say next.

“And so we return them to you, Lord Elrond.”

His words were met with protests from his Company. But before anyone could contest Thorin’s words, Bilbo produce another loud cough and gave them a pointed glare.

They glared back.

( _See if they trust him again!_ )

Elrond blinked in surprise, and more than one Elf in his party exclaimed out loud in shock. “Why now?” he asked, quickly regaining his senses.

It was a valid quiestion since Dwarves were known to be antagonistic towards Elves, especially those from Erebor after Smaug’s arrival and Thranduil’s response to their request for aid.

Thorin was silent for a moment, as if thinking of a reason that did not amount to _because Bilbo told me so._

“I’m sure you’ve heard that Dwarves are made from stone. And as hard as stones are, they can be flexible as well,” Thorin replied.

“Correct me if I am wrong, but stones would rather break than bend. Unless you consider metals as stones as well. But then, the only metal I know of that is inflexible in its natural state is mercury,” Elrond responded, unfazed by the seemingly off-tangent response.

“And you would be right to doubt our intentions if we came to you as poisonous as mercury,” Thorin nodded at Elrond’s words. Then he asked, “Have you tested your mettle against dragonfire?”

(“Bah, all these riddles and questions. He’s starting to sound like our Hobbit,” Dwalin noted, glaring at Bilbo for his deceit, which Bilbo easily ignored. Then he heard sniffling.

“Balin?” Dwalin asked, turning towards his older brother, who was getting teary-eyed. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just...” Balin started, before sniffling once more. “ _So proud_!”

“Of what? Thorin?”

“ _Yes!_ ”

“You’re proud of him becoming a wily conniving Elven bastard?” Dwalin asked, skeptical of Balin’s overwhelming pride.

“I’m proud that he’s finally learned the value of _words_ in negotiations! Even if it took a lifetime to drill into his hard skull,” he said, adding the latter as an afterthought.

“Mahal crafted us from stone, after all. Some harder than others,” Dwalin pointed out.)

Despite Thorin’s non sequitur, Elrond took it in stride and gave serious thought to the Dwarf’s question. “...Yes,” he answered, after a long moment when his mind wandered to ages long past.

“Then you are aware that very little can compare to its heat,” Thorin commented.

But Elrond noticed something very odd with Thorin’s comment. “ _Very little_? Then you mean that there is something that can compare to the scorching heat of dragonfire?”

“Yes. Though many say that dragonfire has no comparison, they have obviously not tested their mettle against a Hobbit’s ire. And against such heat, stones melt, earning the chance to be purified and reformed to a more worthy shape.

“And so this is why I offer these treasures to you.”

Elrond gave a searching look to Thorin, who stared back evenly and calmly. Then he glanced at the Hobbit among them, who was glaring at the grumbling Dwarves of Thorin’s Company. Then back at Thorin, who was looking at his Company with such fondness which reminded Elrond that Eru Ilúvatar also had a hand in giving life to these Dwarves. That they are more than stones brought to life.

Before he gave a response (on how lucky he was that he never antagonized Bilbo’s mother when she visited Imladris), a warg howl was heard from afar.

Both Elrond and Thorin looked at each other for quick moment before Thorin spoke up, “We would be honored to fight beside you and your people.”

“We would be honored to fight alongside you and yours, as well,” Elrond responded.

“Give them your ponies,” Thorin barked to his Company.

“Take them to the stables,” Elrond added to one of his younger scouts, who immediately led the ponies to safety.

And not a moment too soon because the warg scouts arrived and the battle started.

It was an odd experience for Thorin because the last time he fought alongside Elves was in the Battle of the Five Armies. (In the battle where he _died_.) But he knew better than to lose himself in his memories of the past (Or was it future? Time-travel was very confusing.), especially when there was an influx of Orcs and wargs, all lusting for blood.

So he focused on the present, regardless of the differences from his past life. Like the arrival of Azog.

_Azog_.

Part of him wanted to _utterly destroy_ the pale Orc for killing his sister-sons. For destroying their future. ( _But they have a future now. Thank Mahal for his mercy._ ) For destroying his family, one Dwarf at a time. (From his grandfather to his brother to his sister-sons to his _sister_.

His poor darling sister who would have drowned in grief for being the last Durin among their line.)

But attacking the pale Orc now would be the height of foolishness. Foolishness that has no part on the battlefield. Foolishness that led to the death of his sister-sons.

So despite the burning urge for vengeance, he turned away from Azog, focusing on the enemies around him and his Company. And the Elves as well since they were allies for now.

But his inattention to the pale Orc was to be his downfall because that allowed Azog to get close to him.

“ _Thorin_!” Dwalin cried out. Before Thorin could turn to watch the wretched Orc blade cleave him to an early death, Dwalin was already there, taking the blow meant for him.

“DWALIN!” one of the Company cried out, voice hoarse and pained.

( _Fíli took the killing blow meant for him._

_Kíli crying out for his brother._ )

He didn’t bother glancing on who cried out for Dwalin, since Thorin’s attention was now on Azog, who was grinning madly for taking down Thorin’s best friend and shield-brother. He roared as he attacked the pale Orc with all he had.

Every slash, every strike, was filled with righteous rage towards the contemptuous Orc who felled his grandfather and his brother.

Both his brothers.

But no. Dwalin will not die. He could not die. (Else, Thorin would have another life lost because of his incompetence.)

And surely, Dwalin was wise enough not to go against Bilbo.

_Bilbo_. Mahal and his braids, what would Bilbo do?

He would kill Thorin for bringing Dwalin so close to death. Then Dwalin for being close to death.

But before all of that, he would kill Azog, of course.

And there was his beloved Hobbit, attacking with rage that he would have never expected from such a gentle creature. ( _But he knew that Bilbo was a fearsome and fearless creature, facing Azog a lifetime ago, several times over, among other reckless and fearless ventures._ )

But then, they have all changed, every member of his Company, from sweet Ori who kept stealing Dwalin’s axe, to Bombur, who was holding his own and using his considerable bulk as his weapon, which was very creative of him.

Life changed them.

But then, so can death. And death has changed Thorin, giving him a different perspective in life.

He saw that Bilbo was like a child in his father’s smithy, all determination and eagerness with no finesse and elegance to even be called an apprentice of the craft. And despite the years that Bilbo lived ( _without Thorin and it was all Thorin’s fault as well_ ), all he seemed to know about sword-fighting was keeping the pointed end away from him.

For all his resolve in destroying Azog, Bilbo stood no chance. He would _die_ before he could kill the Orc.

And with crystal clarity brought about by death, he now understood why he was felled by the pale Orc.

(To his credit, he was recovering from the ill effects of his gold-madness.

But it was no excuse, especially since he paid with the lives of his sister-sons.)

“Call someone to help you bring Dwalin to Rivendell,” Thorin called out to Bilbo, intercepting a blow meant for his One and countering it. He cast away his rage, his recklessness, his foolishness, for they had no place on the battlefield, leaving behind a calm that only masters of their crafts can claim. And for all his skill as a blacksmith, he was a Swordsmaster foremost. Unusual for a Dwarf, but then the line of Durin has always forged its own path.

“A ‘please’ would not be amiss, Thorin,” Bilbo replied, slipping away from the two warriors. Thorin snorted as he barely manged to block a blow with Orcrist in both his hands. The strength of an Orc was not to be trifled with.

“No time for niceties on the battlefield,” he ground out, directing the blow away from his body since he did not have the strength to match that of an Orc.

“There’s always time for manners! No wonder you Dwarves are so rude!” Bilbo huffed, though his voice was fainter. Thorin assumed that he was searching for anyone who could bring a full-grown Dwarf in battle armor to the Elven refuge. He hoped Bilbo would go to Dori because Dwalin would never forgive Thorin - as if he had a say in what Bilbo did these days - if he was carried by an Elf.

Once he woke up.

_If_ he woke up.

But thoughts like these had no place on the battlefield, especially not against an opponent like Azog.

So instead of responding to Bilbo, he poured himself into the battle, managing to wound Azog with a thin slice to his weaker arm.

He slipped from Azog’s blade once he realized that the Orc only relied on his strength and reach to fell his enemies. But a greater reach meant a greater time to recover for the next blow, giving Thorin enough time to glance another blow, this time to his opposite arm.

As for strength, Dis was known to be unbeatable not because of her power (which was considerable), but because of her skill and speed. And as her master, he had those in spades, and knew how to use them to his advantage.

So he moved around Azog, dancing away from the blows that he could and countering back those that he could not. Hurting him in small but significant ways, like at his joints or at his limbs, not bothering to target his well-defended torso.

“You’re playing with me!” the Orc snarled angrily, which was Thorin’s goal. It was about time that he was on the other end of blind rage.

So despite his exhaustion because Thorin has not slept properly for over a day, Thorin weaved around Azog’s aimless blows. True that his blows held more power since he now shook in strain when he blocked one of the Orc’s blows, but they were far and few in between. Almost as useless as useless as a smith hammering his anvil instead of the metal.

And since he used more strength in his strikes, he grew to tire more quickly and took longer to recover from his follow through. And that was when Thorin struck, entering into Azog’s range and striking upwards from the Orc’s neck.

Black blood gushed out from the wound as Azog struggled to breathe and kill Thorin. But before he could, Thorin twisted his blade, earning more spluttering and coughing from the dying Orc, before slicing through Azog’s head, blood now mixed with brains and other fluids that bathed Thorin further.

Once, Thorin would have reveled in bathing in the blood of his enemy. Now, he could care less.

“You’ve finally avenged your grandfather and Frerin,” Balin noted, appearing at Thorin’s side for it was both as his job and birthright as Thorin’s Chief Adviser and Mentor in both lives. Thorin blinked, attempting to clear his vision with his hand, which only served to spread it more. Vengeance was even further from his mind than revelry.

There were far more important things in life than the dead.

Like the living.

“How’s Dwalin? Bilbo? The Company?” He asked, then added after much thought. “...And the Elves?”

“Dwalin is more important than your One?” Balin asked, surprised at Thorin’s priorities.

“Dwalin took a killing blow meant for me,” he answered. “Besides, Bilbo was well enough to lecture me on my lack of manners on the battlefield,” he added, snorting at the silliness of his One.

“Well, you are a mess, Thorin. I mean look at you,” Kíli said, coming to Thorin’s side.

“Well then, so are you,” he said to Kíli as he reached out to the archer (and was spared from being bathed from Orc guts, lucky Dwarf) to pull him to his side. He ignored the half-hearted struggle and whining of “ _Uncle_ ” from his darker-haired sister-son, finally letting himself bask in the knowledge that they are alive.

(Because Kíli would not be as cheerful as he was if anything happened to Fíli.

Thorin doubted he would even be alive, choosing to follow his brother, as he has always done.)

“Dwalin’s fine. Dori and Nori were able to bring him to Lord Elrond, who managed to stop the bleeding with a few spells before they went off to Rivendell with Bilbo,” Fíli reported, managing to avoid Thorin’s attempt to pull him to his side.

Luckily Bifur was there to catch the elusive Prince and brought him to Thorin.

“Bifur, you traitor,” Fíli grumbled as Thorin held both his sister-sons to his side. He nodded to Bifur in thanks, who gestured that _he was happy to be of service to his King_.

“You worry too much, Thorin,” Ori spoke up, hefting Keeper on his shoulder. “Dwalin is a strong Dwarf.”

“Death does not discriminate based on strength,” Thorin answered back.

“Yet death did not claim Dwalin until he was at least three centuries old,” Glóin pointed out. “So it must have seen something in Dwalin to grant him the title of the longest living Dwarf in the history of Arda.”

“Besides, Dwalin knows better than to go against Bilbo. Worse than dragonfire, aye?” Bofur said, grinning.

**Author's Note:**

> okay, i’m a big fan of fix-it time travels but i haven’t seen one with the whole company going back and so this is my contribution to the community. if you find any, give me a heads up please. c:
> 
> p.s. notes have been moved to my tumblr, drop by and say hi, yes? [cole-lection](http://cole-lection.tumblr.com/)


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